Itching
by lemmesay
Summary: Little piece of Merry/Pippin slash ficlet. Once the journey's over, the hobbits can finally focus on the most important problems of the Universe. I'm still learning to write in English; excuse the eventual mistakes, please. Thanks Anne for the betaread!


"Oh, Pip, stop moaning, already!"

The pantry was dark and cold, and the only source of light was coming from a small lantern in Merry's hand. The younger hobbit beside him was literally jumping his way towards the shelves.

"But I can't! It itches, itches, itches!" he howled again. "I just can't stand it, it's horrible!" He stood on his tiptoes, trying to scratch his right shoulder bone with his left hand, desperately failing, and quickly loosing the balance. Merry chuckled, rolled his eyes, and still had enough time to put the lantern on the shelf, before wrapping his arms around the falling cousin.

"Oi, thanks, Mer!" Pippin raised his eyebrows in surprise, finding an unexpected comfort in his best friend's hug. Merry's eyes were shining with soothing blue colour, his hair more golden than normally thanks to the low-beam light.

Merry resisted the urge to cuddle the little hobbit he held, and let him go, his cheeks still burning red. "Why don't you put it off, then?" he suggested.

Pippin looked at his knitted sweater with eyes full of hate. It was a really nice sweater, actually. Pippin liked the colour, because it reminded him of Treebeard. Brown with little hints of greenish stitching here and there. But for hobbit's sake, that bleeding thing itched! It was so bad, that Pippin wasn't really able to think of anything but the itching. Unfortunately, it had been knitted by one of his old grandmothers – so he couldn't just stop wearing it all of a sudden. It would hurt her feelings. He also knew that Merry liked him in that sweater, which was one of the reasons of wearing it tonight.

"Aye, I suppose I could put it off. But granny Baggins will be definitely mad at me..."

Merry chuckled, amazed by the indecision in Pippin's eyes. "I think it's a nice sweater. But if you can't stand it anymore, there's no point to torture yourself, Pip. Com'ere, let's put it off," he reached his arms towards the younger hobbit and pulled the brown fabric over his head. He gasped under the sensation of his palms on Pippin's hips. Merry sent that thought away and sighed.

"There you go," he interrupted the silence, his cheeks and ears turning red once again so hard, that he was glad there was so little light in here. Merry could see the funny expression in the younger hobbit's eyes. Pippin's shirt collar was creased and his curls messed up. His red lips were slightly open. He wasn't moving, but his green eyes were shimmering with something Merry couldn't quite catch.

"Thanks, Mer," said Pippin, the words coming out of his mouth fuzzy and hoarse.

"This wool really isn't very hobbit-friendly, right?" Merry gabbled out, trying not to be stuck in this strange moment, still holding the sweater in his suddenly so sweaty palms. Pippin smiled nervously and shook his head.

"It still itches actually, even when Ah'm not wearing it!" Pippin used both his hands to scratch his back again and frowned in frustration.

"You're one hopeless case, aren't you, Pip?" Merry laughed again, a bit more relaxed.

"Oh, and ye think yer so clever, right? So try tae put that thing on, and we'll see how long it needs to eat one wee hobbit like ye alive!"

"Who do you think, you call a "wee hobbit", you little scratchy imp? And no, I'm not going to put your sweater on. It's too small for me, anyways!" Merry stuck his tongue out, realizing, that they had been away long enough for the rest of the family to wonder whether they got lost on their way to the pantry. The sweater in his palms smelled like Pippin (apples and dandelions) and Merry resisted the urge to dig his nose into it and inhale the scent, to literally drown into it.

"Just grab that basket and let's get back to the dining-room, shall we?"

Pippin frowned even more. "And what about that sweater, you clever hobbit? Ah'm not wearing it again! It's a killer sweater! Maybe we could get rid of it somehow. What about a ritual murder? Let's pull it under the water and if it flows, it's innocent!"

"But granny will be sad, Pip. You know how emotional she gets in autumn," Merry shook his head, handed the piece of clothes back to Pippin and grabbed the lantern from the shelf.

"Aye, last time she forced me tae listen tae her new 'ode tae weakening sun and falling leaves'. Have ye ever heard her voice, Mer? It's horrible! I swear there were stones falling from thae ceiling while she was singing."

Merry chuckled. "Oh you know, Pip, not everyone has that lovely voice you have. But at least you see it's not good to hurt granny's feelings. She could always start singing again-"

"Naah, thank ye! I think Ah'm too young and pretty to die."

"That you are," Merry smiled and raised his other hand to sleek Pippin's messy curls, his palm so heavy when touching his cousin's head. Pippin raised his eyebrows in a question, and Merry could feel his belly tingling. His nose was just a few inches away from Pippin's. Pippin's lips were shaking and a sudden flush coloured his childish cheeks. Merry stroked that rouge with his index finger. Everything was so silent and slow. His hand travelled further, across Pippin's collarbone, letting the goose-bumps raise in its path - suddenly stopping – just to touch his chest, to feel the quickened heart-beat under the exposed skin.

"You know, Pip," he stopped for a moment to lick his dry lips, trying to find the right words to say, "...you know, that love is like a sweater? Sometimes it itches, but mostly it's warm and cosy." And then Merry very slowly and carefully cupped Pippin's chin and pressed his warm lips on his trembling ones.

It was a light kiss, but still, it made both of them groan. Pippin raised both of his hands to press Merry closer and shut his eyes. His lips tasted of apples, autumn leaves and something slightly bitter – probably afternoon tea. And it tasted _so_ good.

Merry deepened the kiss, knowing it wasn't right, but unable to stop, his fingers tangled in Pippin's silky curls. Everything felt so precious. It really did... but... it wasn't right, was it? Was it right to love his cousin? Was it right to feel butterfly wings fluttering in his chest? Was it right to taste his lips, to inhale and exhale their breaths together, so they could become one? It wasn't wrong. But it wasn't right either. It was... _forbidden_.

The sudden realizing hit Merry so hard, that he yanked and pulled away, his eyes wide open.

Merry ran away.

Pippin stood there in absolute darkness, his eyes still closed, a gentle smile dancing on his lips.

Merry joined the rest of family, a light blush still on his cheeks, and tried to ignore their curious looks.

"Meriadoc, for the love of sweet Eru, what took you so long? And where's Pippin?" Merry shrugged.

"Err... he's still up there... somewhere," he managed, inwardly cursing himself.

"Did you two fall out?"

"Nah," Merry shook his head, not wanting to say anything. He could still feel the softness of Pippin's lips on his. Pippin's small hands holding him, his arms cuddling him, his curls tickling his nose... No, they definitely didn't fall out.

"Where is he, then? And do you have any news about the apple basket?" Esmeralda frowned while trying to read from her son's expression.

"I'm..." Merry began, but he was interrupted by quick foot-steps coming from the corridor tunnel.

"Aye, all! I've got thae fruits!" Pippin (wearing the itchy sweater again) put the apple basket on the table, and sat down beside Merry, cheerfully snagging one of the fruits and taking a noisy bite.

"Well, finally, you're back, Peregrin! What were you doing up there for so long?" Pippin answered with a chuckle and took another bite. The smell of green apple hit Merry's nose and Merry stared at Pippin in amazement, his cheeks turning deeply red. Luckily, no one was paying him attention.

"I hope you like my sweater, Pippin, dear," old granny Baggins's voice interrupted the silence. "It may be a little bit scratchy," she added, watching her grandson with a curious look.

"It's alright, granny," Pippin smiled and turned his head to meet Merry's shocked expression. His green eyes went softer, as he leaned his head in a mischievous gesture.

"Because even when it itches a wee bit, it's still so warm and cosy."


End file.
